To Those We Left Behind
by Summer Moon
Summary: Three months since the five left, things begin to change. Their homeland withers, and The Gaffer Gamgee and Rosie wait for their beloved Sam. Meanwhile Farmer Cotton and his lads prepare to defend what is theirs from those who mean to destroy the Shire.
1. The Green Dragon

_((Disclaimer: If you're on a site called **Fanfiction** dot net and expect the characters to be original, then you should seriously get some help. Or learn how to read._

_This is originally an RP post, written for a site I just joined but as it's happening outside of the current plot, it's basically mine, and a short story. So I thought I'd put it up here. So here you are. The Lord of the Rings from the point of view of those left at home. It's mainly about The Cotton Family and the Gaffer Gamgee who are often overlooked. Mix of book verse and movie verse. Mostly book verse, though. ))_Chapter One: The Green Dragon

"I'm telling you he's dead!"

"Shhhhh his gaffer's right over there!"

"Ah, he's the one who said so in the first place!"

"What about those two up from the northern towns?"

"Eh?"

"You know what's-his-name-Brandybuck and the Took lad."

"Ah, I'd say the same thing."

"Who was that fellow what says they've gone and on and moved?"

"Bolger…Bolger. Ah I can't remember! You know- round fellow. Curly hair."

"Ah well that narrows it down, now doesn't it?"

Rosie stood in her spot behind the counter, her ears eager to listen but her heart less than enthusiastic.

Only a year ago she had taken a job at the infamous Green Dragon.

It was an uncommon practice for one whose family already had a trade to be involved in such things, but since her gammer had hurt her arm and not been able to weave anymore, they'd needed the extra income. Besides, she'd been more than happy to oblige. Why, any hobbit who knew anything had the sense to know that no matter what happened in what corner of what farthing, it would be talked about in The Dragon. She was glad to hear what she could, especially when it was regarding lads and lasses who she knew. Besides that, she enjoyed the company. For the Cottons were farmers and without any other sisters that meant that Rosie would be left alone during the day while her brothers and father worked the fields and her mother went to the Bywater Market. But now that there was nothing to sell, Gammer Cotton took most responsibilities of the home once more, and gave her daughter to The Dragon until she could learn to weave properly.

Were it not for such things or for the company of those who came to the pub, she'd have perhaps been much more sorrowful as of late. But so long as there were always folk around her, she could keep herself distracted with keeping _them _distracted.

"Rosie lass!" called Longo Foxburr from a table close to the bar "Come over and sing us a song! And bring some ale while you're at it!"

"Neh, I can't sing a copper's worth! You know that!"

"Maybe!" cried the Foxburr "But you pour more when you're worryin about us listenin to yeh!"

"Ah!" called Rosie "You bring your own glass up here and I'll pour it for you! Ain't no way I can carry a barrel that far!"

"Then bring us some wine!"

"Who's paying?"

But Longo shook his head and laughed "Cantcha _convince_ someone to pay it? Use them feminine charms!"

"I would but yours are so much better!"

The two hobbits who sat with Longo laughed. The first was Olo Grub the farmer's son, while the second was Ponto Proudfoot who worked at the Bywater Mill.

"Come on, then! Stop hassling Miss Rosie! Get us some ale, or sing us a song _yerself!_" cried Olo.

"Yeh, Mr. Longo!" Rosie laughed, knowing that the hobbit was fair of throat "Sing us a song!"

"Alright, alright," The Foxburr feigned modesty "I'll do the tale of Dearie and Emerald! Give me some help, Rosie lass! Do Emerald's part!"

"Only if you want to go deaf!"

"Neh, you're not that bad!"

"Only bad enough to waken the dead!"

The surrounding group roared with laughter at Ponto's remark, yet for a moment Rosie seemed disturbed.

_Only bad enough to waken the **dead.** _

But after a pause, she grinned and slapped her polishing cloth down on the counter, pretending to look angry as she moved to stand near the three other hobbits.

"Come take a sit!" Longo laughed, patting his lap "There's a spot here just for you."

"Neh, I don't sit with customers. Let alone on them!"

"I was only jokin, don't take me seriously, lass!" he shook his head "I'm respectable, remember?"

"Yeh, not even we believe that!" cried Ponto as he finished off the rest of his ale.

"Come on!" Olo grinned "Let's hear you two sing!"

"Ladies first." Rosie smiled as she looked at Longo.

He bowed and stood up upon his chair

_"Oh Daerie sits so far and shy  
Along the farthest corner  
He hides from Em'rald's watchful eye  
And's glad he isn't closer"_

And here a few others came in, singing in gruff voices:

_"Too-ra-la-ra-la-ra-la-ra  
Ra-la-ra Too-ra-la-ra  
Too-ra-la-ra-la-ra-la-ra  
Ra-la-ra_

_Too-ra-la-ra"_

Rosie then came in, hardly singing so much as speaking, for she was embarrassed of her voice.

_"Oh sweetie lass does just the same  
And stares at Dearie's table  
But unlike he she wants to see  
And gaze upon her angel"_

_"Too-ra-la-ra-la-ra-la-ra  
Ra-la-ra Too-ra-la-ra  
Too-ra-la-ra-la-ra-la-ra  
Ra-la-ra_

_Too-ra-la-ra"_

And here Rosie smiled, leaning in close to the table and grinning as sweetly as she could manage.

_"Oh Dearie won't you dance with me?  
Says little Em'rald lassie"_

But Longo shook his head

_"He sniffs his nose and wiggles his toes  
And answers to her fiercely"_

_"Too-ra-la-ra-la-ra-la-ra  
Ra-la-ra Too-ra-la-ra  
Too-ra-la-ra-la-ra-la-ra  
Ra-la-ra_

_Too-ra-la-ra"_

_"Oh never will I dance with you  
Oh little Em'rald lassie  
For I am sixty years of age  
And you are only twenty!"_

_"Too-ra-la-ra-la-ra-la-ra  
Ra-la-ra Too-ra-la-ra  
Too-ra-la-ra-la-ra-la-ra  
Ra-la-ra_

_Too-ra-la-ra_

_Too-ra-la-ra-la-ra-la-ra  
Ra-la-ra Too-ra-la-ra  
Too-ra-la-ra-la-ra-la-ra  
Ra-la-ra_

_Too-ra-la-ra"_

Ponto, Olo and a few others applauded, though most (mainly the older gaffers and gammers) paid no heed.

"I like that ending!" Rosie said with an affirming nod "Much better than the one I know.

"Whyum, how does yours end?"

"Oh never will I dance with you  
Oh little Em'rald dearie  
For in my heart I have a lass  
So round and fair and pretty" answered Rosie, reciting the lines rather than singing them.

"Ah, I like my ending too." Said Longo "Again we're in agreement. We agree on a lot of things."

"Oh?"

"Yeh, like how I deserve some more ale."

"Try again."

"Worth a shot."

Rosie laughed, returning to her spot at the bar "Alright, lads, finish up yer drinks it's long past midnight!"

"Awww come on now. You'll send me home without another glass?"

"It's the only way you'll _get_ home! If I give you any more- dragons and fiddlesticks! You'll be getting yerself lost!"

"Fine, fine" Longo pretended to sulk "Olo, my lad, how about a sip of yers?"

But Olo shook his head and grinned "Nah, not a chance."

"Alright, alright." Longo said, getting up and brushing some crumbs off of his trousers. He walked over to the bar and laid his glass upon it, speaking quieter now "Come, lass, what do I have to do for another glass?"

"Since when has it been so important to you?" Rosie asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable "It's only a glass. I'm sure you have some ale at home. Sides, I'd be glad to give you some if you'd only pay."

Longo flinched for a moment and then smiled strangely "Alright, alright.." And he turned away, hesitating for a second before looking back at her "…tell me, Rosie lass, are you happy at all with yer job here?"

Rosie was quiet for a while, unsure of where the question came from. She nodded "Yes, quite. Why?"

"It's only that…that Lotho Baggins has been talkin about changes."

"Changes?"

"Yeh, if he gets his way, then there'll be a lot of jobs. If you're interested I could-"

But Rosie shook her head. Her family had known Mr. Frodo and respected him. He was a gentlehobbit. And whatsmore, he had always been kind to her Sam. In her mind, Lotho was not the rightful master of Bag End, and she would never want to help him in anything nor owe him anything.

"No thanks, love. I'm afraid I'll have to decline." She said.

"Why's that?"

"I'm happy here."

"You're happy with what's old." He said "I can tell you that there's no future in this. Sure, you're happy now, but just think! Mr Baggins has got visions for The Shire. If all turns out well, everyone'll be wealthy enough to live in them new wood houses."

"Why should I want to live in one of those? Too cold if you ask me."

"Neh. You only say that cause you're used to the old homes- that's what you grew up with. I'm tellin you if you would just-"

"And I'm telling you, I want who- _what_ I grew up with, because it's what's best."

"It's a shame you're so foolish sometimes. I just thought I'd help you. You're one of my dear lasses, you know!"

But Rosie shook her head. His words disturbed her, though she did not want to protest for she could not really grasp a reason why she should.

"You're wasting your kindness on me. Sorry, Mr. Longo."

"Eh, you'll come around." He laughed, waving her away and turning around "I know you, Rosie lass, you'll come around!"

"Mr Olo, Mr Ponto!" she called, "You see Mr Longo home for me. Make sure he doesn't get hurt! I think maybe he had a bit too much to drink- _he's not acting like himself._"

And Rosie and Longo watched each other, saying nothing but burning with a hidden kind of frustration. It seemed even to Olo and Ponto who had heard the conversation that it was an odd reaction from the both of them. But there was so much more that was said in that minute than they really understood or knew.


	2. The Ropemaker's Lads

Chapter Two: The Ropemaker's Lads 

At last the pub was emptied, and the lads and gaffers stumbled out the door. The two barmaids who remained for closing and Mr. Moro Goodbody (who owned The Dragon) began to wipe down the tables and stack all the chairs and stools. But as Rosie came to a corner concealed from the counter, she saw a mop of curly hair laid down upon the table. Giving out a sigh, she pressed her hand onto the slumped shoulder and shook it as gently as she could.

"Ah," she chided, finally sitting down when he would not rise "Gaffer Gamgee, are you all right?"

But the old hobbit turned his head and looked at her with sad eyes. Though drink often gave young lads too much energy, in the old gaffer it only stole away.

"Sbeen three months." He said, running his weathered finger along a crack in the table "_Three months_."

Rosie was silent, but she left her hand on his shoulder and stroked it with her thumb.

"…my youngest lad…the one to carry on my work…" he mumbled, his words broken by strange breath "Everyone says he's dead."

"I-is that what you're worried about?" Rosie asked, laughing as best as she could "Neh. He ain't dead. I know that for sure."

"I know you try to be cheerful, Rose." Said the Gaffer "But there's times you have to assume."

"I _am_ assuming," Rosie assured "The way I see it, Sam wouldn't have left if he didn't know he was going to come back. He's not one to act like that."

"Well, if Mr Frodo was the one to be leaving, he'd go with him no matter what, I know. I taught him how to be loyal to a master but not to what point! Don't suppose they would've even made it up there to Crick-Hollow- probably led away by them queer-folk from the north-farthing!" and here he sighed "I always said to Sam- 'keep your mind on the potatoes and the cabbages, none of that other nonsense!' Ah, and I thought that he'd've listened to me! But he's gone and gotten mixed up in the business of his betters! Now look at the trouble he's in- and the trouble he's left me in! Ah and all because he looks after Mr Frodo- noble as he is!"

Rosie showed no sadness while he spoke his sorrowful piece. She had taught herself to receive such words and speculation as if they were far away- gliding by her and never really sinking in. It was when she was by herself that she would worry about her Sam. It wouldn't do any harm, then. But here with his gaffer and with the lads who hardly knew his name before he meant amiss, it would have been disastrous to be obvious.

"Yeh, he looks after Mr Baggins, but he looks after you too. He wouldn't leave you all alone like that to watch after The Row if he didn't know he'd come back for you. And besides, can you picture him of all hobbits getting into anything that might get him killed? He knows better than that! And if not, Mr. Baggins will make sure he does alright- he won't let him get into any nonsense! And even without, Sam's got a good head on his shoulders- he got that from you, Gaffer Gamgee."

"Bless you, Rose." He chuckled a little, though he could see the sadness behind her optimistic words. She was convincing herself as much as she was convincing him, for he noticed the words she had used-_can you picture him of all hobbits getting into anything that might get him _**_killed?_** He had never mentioned such things, though it was true the thought was there in his mind. "…tell me, how's your gaffer?"

"He's as good as ever."

"I should like to speak with him some time."

"Yeh, I'll tell him for you. Anything in particular?"

"Naw. Nothing to concern yourself with, Rose. Just leave it to the lads and gaffers to sort out. Don't worry."

"Aye." She smiled "…do you need a moment to rest? I can walk you home once I finish all this up, if you wish."

The Gaffer Gamgee nodded, resting his head back down "If your gaffer's still awake maybe I'll speak to him before I go home."

"Aren't you any tired?"

"Not too tired. It's very important."

Rosie nodded and stood up again, patting him on the back "Just give me a moment to finish cleaning."

In the months since Sam had taken off, Rosie had kept a careful eye on the Gaffer Gamgee while he was at the Dragon. She wasn't the only one, for with Gammer Gamgee being the late Gammer Gamgee, Hamson in Tighfield, Halfred in the north-farthing, and the three girls right off and married, even Farmer Cotton had had to look after the poor hobbit. In a way, the family had filled the gap that Sam had left, and Rosie (for one) was determined to fill it until he came back. Ah, what a talking to she'd give him then! Leaving for so long- imagine that nerve!

But it was no burden and not so hard for her to look after the older hobbit. The Gaffer Gamgee had been like a second father to her, for her Tom-Dad and him had been friends since they were lads just learning how to work the land. After the poor harvest of 2963 (Shire Reckoning), the two had traveled to the north farthing together in order to bring back some of the old reserves. They had been stopped by the snow halfway there and forced to live off on the roadside for two days before they could go on. The storm finally let, but their friendship did not.

When they were both married and up to their ears in children (Tom-Dad in sons and Ham Gamgee in daughters), they still made sure to see each other as often as possible, usually bringing their lads and lasses along with them. They'd smoke their pipes by the river banks, glad (but not too glad) to get away from home for a while.

Bywater Pool had always been a favourite spot, for it required no money to enjoy, and did not lack space for their younguns to run and swim. It had cradled their children in its warm waters, making them glad ("but none too soft" as Tom-Dad would put it) and so they had grown even greater in fondness for their homeland; it was true that it had raised them just as much as their gaffers and gammers.

How many days had they spent there with the sun shining down upon the shimmering waters, sitting in the green grasses and feeling the cool mud beneath their furry feet? The rocks by the shore were always warm as a hearth's cob, and the mud: sticky-soft and cool. Even as the Cotton and Gamgee children grew, they would still remove themselves to the pool to swim or to paddle with each other. For it was true they had all been close through their gaffers, so that even when they had begun to grow and plump up, they were still children with each other.

"Hurry up, Samwise Gamgee!"

"I would if I could!" called Sam, trying his best to pull his feet out of the mud that insisted on holding him back "But all this mud it won't let me go- evil stuff as it is! See, I can't hurry! You'll have to wait!"

"I would make my steps slow, but then you'd never learn!" Rosie laughed, running back onto the shore in a fit of laughter. As a tween, she had always found it funny luring Sam into the pool and then leaving him there. Somehow he always got stuck. Perhaps had she been wiser she'd have known the lengths a lad would go to in order to make a lass laugh. But then, perhaps that was the point at which one knew more than would let them be happy.

"Come on, Sam! You can do it!"

And he tried his best to look silly as he waded through the water.

Rosie sat with her legs stretched out and leaned back on her hands "I would've thought you'd be a better swimmer by now, love!"

"Hm? What did you call me?"

"Nothing! Hurry up! Think of what your gaffer'll say when he comes around to find you can't swim even after all this time!"

And Samwise grinned, leaning forward, at first seeming to swim and then to drown "Aha! Help!"

Rosie sat up and for a moment and was startled but then she shook her head. _Sam'd never go anywhere where he couldn't stand up! _Or at least she thought so.

"Come on, Sam! You'll have to pull yourself up! I can't carry you!

…Sam?

Sam!"

And she bolted down back to the pool as fast as she could, wading through the water where last she saw him. But it was noon and the sun glistened so bright off the water so she could not make out where he was.

"Ack!" she screamed, as suddenly there was a great splash and the verily soaked hobbit appeared out of the pool "Curse you, Samwise Gamgee! Why'd you have to startle me like that!? I thought better of you!"

Sam re-appeared over the water, shook his head and shrugged. In truth he had not really intended to scare her, but after taking a moment to try and swim had been unable to. He laughed a bit, and coughed, trying his best to look as if he had done it on purpose.

"Better?" he asked, rubbing his face off on his sleeve so hide the redness of his cheeks.

"Yeh, less brave and more clever." she grinned "But maybe I was mistaken about you. I should call you Samwise the Brave."

"Doesn't seem right." he laughed "No, plain old Sam is good enough for me. It's good for every day wear and tear you know."

"Every day is fine. But this should be a special name. Samwise the Brave!"

"I'd feel better about Samwise the None-too-Clever-But-Maybe-Just-A-Little-Brave."

"Too long." smiled Rosie, wondering why Sam was always trying to humble himself. She did not yet realize that his humility and love for simple pleasures was one of the things she loved most about him (and believed in herself) "Come on then, Samwise the Brave, let's get out of this pool."

And she began to walk (somewhat gruffly for the mud pulled at her feet, too), and she held the folds of her skirt tightly at her side so that the water would not blow them up.

"Where do you want to go?" He asked, not one to readily make the first suggestion.

"Don't know. Where do you want to go?"

But Sam looked a bit uncomfortable and shook his head "You pick anywhere and I'll be happy to go."

The exchange went on for some time when finally the two (both unwilling to make any choice in the matter) sat down by the grassy banks and dried off.

"It's almost yer birthday, isn't it, Sam?"

"Hm? What's today?"

"April 4th."

"Suppose it is."

"Are you going to have a party?"

"Just with my sisters- and my gaffer and gammer."

"You'll leave me out of it, then?"

"I didn't think…" he began but trailed off.

"It's alright." She grinned, she had never had a party outside of her family either, for it was true that money for presents was hard to come by "Is Tom coming?"

"Only if Mari has her way about it. She's very fond of him."

"Yeh. Tom's the same."

"…a-are _you_ fond of anyone, Rose?"

"A'course."

"Who?"

Rosie blushed and shook her head "Ah, since when are you so curious? Don't tell me you're losing that good Gamgee sense of yours!"

Sam laughed and looked away. Sometimes he did feel as if he were losing his good sense.

"How about you, Sam? Are you fond of anyone?" She could not look at him, but stared instead at the ground where the water dripped off of her golden locks (which were less-than-curly for they were soaked)

"I suppose I am. But if you won't tell me, I won't tell you either. It's only fair."

Rosie laughed "Alright, alright!"

And the two smiled, suddenly falling silent.

"…so S-Sam, are you making any wish for your birthday?"

"Neh.

I think I'd probably waste it on something that'd never happen. Or else be too cautious and waste it on something daft." He swallowed "…why don't you make the wish for me, Rose?"

"Alright," said she, with a bit of a sneaky grin "I wish you'll spend at least a little bit of your birthday with me."

"Really?" He looked at her with a smile "I mean- is that all?"

"Yeh. But I don't just mean _this year_."

"Oh?"

"Every April 6th, it'll be your job to pay your lass a visit!"

"My lass?"

"…I mean…I only… that's only what everyone says." she trailed off and felt like hitting herself "Some folk have the wrong idea.

And…erm…

What do you say? Every April 6th?"

"A-alright, Rose." He grinned "Every April 6th I'll pay you a visit. But you shouldn't say your wish out loud- otherwise it won't be coming true!"

"Ah, I'm counting on you, then, Samwise Gamgee, not the Wishing Tree! If I don't see you 'round I'll come by and give you a great good thrashing!"

But even Sam could not believe that. He only laughed and nodded "Don't worry." and he smiled in that way that he always did "_I promise_."

_That's right, you promised...no matter how long ago, doesn't matter! You come back in the springtime, Samwise Gamgee! You come back in the spring!_


	3. Where the Sleeping Snake Doth Lie

Chapter Three: Bagshot Row

It was well past one and the night was fallen to chill by the time that the Gaffer Gamgee walked out of the pub, his second-daughter on his arm. The two waved goodbye to Mr Goodbody, and turned down the road with their light cloaks tucked carefully around them and their scarves wound beneath that.

"Do you have enough pipeweed?" asked Rosie as the two turned down the road that would take them to Bywater.

"Aye." Replied the Gaffer Gamgee.

"Enough to drink?"

"Aye."

"Enough food?"

"Aye, Rose, aye. Anything you ask me I have enough of- save for company. Now, my Hal may be coming down from the north-farthing this week, so perhaps I will be fine even in that for a while." And here he laughed "I am old. And easily satisfied. I don't need anything, really, just my children- and that includes you and your brothers. Just visit me from time to time is all, I ask. I could use the help around the taters now that Sam's…now that Sam's gone on and Imoved./I" he sighed "My back is not as it used to be- though I still say that my heart is."

"If it would please you, I could pay you a visit tomorrow and help you with your plantings." Rosie suggested as she led the elderly hobbit down a road he could barely see in the dark.

"Now then, Rose, I know you mean well. But the truth is I need good strong arms and a mind for earth and vegetables to help me there. But you have other talents- perhaps you convince one of your brothers. Or even your gaffer. I should enjoy either company. And yours too- I would not refuse to have you visit me to speak."

Rosie smiled, though she was a little disappointed. It seemed her lot to be underestimated- but then why should she complain? What's one's lot is one's lot. Might as well latch onto it and make the best of what's been given! Besides, it was better to be underestimated than overestimated- when one's underestimated, they can do better. But when one's overestimated they can only disappoint. _Keep your mind low, Rosie Cotton! _She told herself _Good deeds and appreciation are for greater folk._

"I'll tell them to go to you." The hobbit-maid smiled, sweetly "and if they refuse, then I'll see they have no supper till they go."

"Bless you, lass." Laughed the Gaffer, his eyes catching onto hers for a moment "For all your ill deeds you do decent things!"

"I try." She smiled, but soon felt the smile fade.

The two of them stopped in their tracks. There, as quiet and menacing as a sleeping snake was Bag End. There was silence save for the chirping of the Shire crickets, and the pair could scarce let the cold breath escape their lips.

In the three month since Mr. Baggins had left, his former home had gone to a strange kind of ruin. While it was hardly different, it seemed to be worlds away from the warm place it had once been. The climbing roses that had been so beautiful in the summer months now coiled about recklessly with their thorns brown and bitter. They sprung up from the ground like long, bony fingers, and crept up the grassy prison. Where once the daffodils and periwinkles flowered, there now remained but withered stems and leaves as brittle as burned paper. And where the snow lay strewn from three day's past fall, there could be seen only the muddiness of the thing and not the whiteness it had once possessed. The lily garden was completely dead, and on its once pure leaves there crawled the few wriggling bugs that had survived the winter's cold. The peach roses- Sam's pride and joy could not be found even for the vines. Perhaps they had died and crumbled away. Or perhaps they were merely buried in the snow.

Gaffer Gamgee moved from his spot at last, opening the gate and traveling up the hill, as he muttered things to himself about the way things were beginning to look and all his great work gone to waste. Though Rosie hurried after him and tried to halt his attempts, he did not listen, and knelt down in the snow next to the garden, pulling at the weeds and broken vines with his bare hands.

"We can't be here." Rosie insisted, trying her best to urge the elder hobbit from his spot "It's not Mr Frodo's or Mr Bilbo's home anymore."

"It's their home as much as it's always been. This smial belongs to the Baggins of Hobbiton- they've always kept it and kept it well. How can I let all their good effort and my good work go to waste!?"

And he pulled and pulled at the weeds and the vines, his fingers bleeding and freezing without sympathy. Rosie hovered about, uncomfortably, half-ready to see the great green door open and Lotho appear in his sleeping gown, half ready to see her work-mates traveling up the road. But neither things happened. What came to her ears moments later was not the sound of hobbit footsteps, but of greater ones.

IBffff. Bffff. BFFF./I each footfall was louder and more clumsy than the first.

"Please, Gaffer Gamgee, _we have to go_!"

And still he would not let up. But she lay her hands upon his shoulder and hurried him behind the old plum tree that had not given fruit for several years and that they thought never would.

"Rose! What's going on?"

"Shush, Gaffer, see here comes strange folk!" she whispered, though he seemed more concerned with the garden.

Two creatures as tall as giants, and as rude as wild boars came to the door of Bag End, their feet wrapped in leather and string, and their bodies draped in wild clothing. They did not need to knock, but the door opened for them.

"You're late."

"We shouldn't have come at all. Don't waste our time."

There was a pause.

"Alright, well, you know why you're here."

"What's going on?" The Gaffer asked, unable to see. It was a bad move.

The two wild men had heard the sound of his voice, and turned to look toward the plum tree. With loud, heavy steps they advanced, hands upon their rude weapons.

"Stay down." Rosie whispered, pushing the Gaffer back behind the bushes as gently as she could, and then rising to her feet.

She pretended to run as if she were the only one present and knew she had been caught But the two ran up and lay their large hands upon her shoulders, leading her toward the door with a chuckle.

"Seems you've got a spy." Laughed the wild man, his black and yellow teeth glimmering in the lamplight "Probably watching you sleep!"

For a moment Lotho's eyes dwindled on Rosie's shoulder where one of the men gripped her tightly. It seemed as if he were ready to protest to the unnecessary force, but as he looked once more at the men's faces he could only laugh (though his laughter was nervous).

"It seems a wild rose has made her way into my garden!" he chuckled "Well, my lass, if you wanted to admire me you'd only to ask! It'll do you no good to wander about in the business of gentlehobbits, spying on them late at night. Why don't you go home to your farm and that cripple of a gammer!"

The man squeezed her shoulder harder so that she let out a small cry. Though it hurt, she was not sure if he even noticed he was doing it. These big-folk were so strong and their steps so heavy that any force they put out would have been overwhelming to a hobbit.

"Better to have a cripple of a gammer who's sweet to her kin, than an old, nasty grump. And I wasn't watching you in your bedclothes, Mr Lotho. I was…" she tried to think of something to say "I was trying to finish up something my Sam had left undone before he left. He'd asked me to finish it off, but I'd forgot about it till now. I didn't say anything, because I didn't want to wake you."

Lotho wrinkled his nose. He was quite fond of his gammer. But he would not let himself become upset in front of the two big folk.

"_Your _Sam?" he laughed "You speak of him like a brother! But then, he probably is, isn't he? I can't keep all you farming folk straight. It would be easier if you'd stop having children. But then, who would do all the dirty work?

Anyways, next time you want to come about and fix my garden, you let me know, lass. It won't do to have strange folk wandering about my property!"

And here Rosie's gaze turned upward toward the men who still held onto her shoulder. Lotho caught the signal and waved his hand.

"Let go of her. She's no cause for worry. Her kind's only good for digging in the dirt, not poking around in it."

For all his snobbery and nasty attitude, Lotho was not one to condone unnecessary violence- or at least not at the time. The big folk that came were working for him (though they were stronger) and he would not have those who lived below his name harming the hobbits he had grown up with.

"Thank you, Mr Lotho." She muttered, smoothing out her bodice "If I may have permission to finish the job?"

"Come back tomorrow." He answered, waving her away "You can't see anything without a lamp and I'm not about to give you one. Besides, I have important business to attend to here. Look, you've already wasted these poor gentlemen's time!"

"Then let me retrieve my tools. I've left them in the back, you see."

"Alright, alright." Answered Lotho "Just be quick about it."

She had hoped he would go inside, but then even Mr Sackville-Baggins was not so dim. To invite two big-folk into his home where no one would hear a scream, would be nothing short of idiocy. If ever he were to do such a thing he would surely find himself dead for the greed of thieves.

Rosie stood in her spot for a bit longer. She stared at Lotho, waiting for him to retreat inside. Yet this was not the whole reason for her stalling- she was entranced (in the way young people often are) by the oddity of his face. Years of terrible pimples had left his face looking like gravel, and she wondered how on earth it must feel to the touch.

"…Miss Rose, are you going to get your gardening tools?"

"…sorry, I was…" she tried to think of something. And then she swallowed, biting her lip "…just letting my eyes linger a little longer."

Lotho shuffled uncomfortably "Just go, lass." He mumbled, either despising her supposed interest, or disregarding it.

She was glad for such a thing and went once more to the garden where the plum tree stood. Not being able to think of an alternative, she helped the Gaffer Gamgee up so that he became obvious to the three.

When at last she came into the light with the elderly hobbit on her arm, Lotho sniffed and furrowed his brow.

"I thought you were getting gardening tools."

"Yes. Well…really _I'm_ the gardening tool. Mr Gamgee is the one who really knows what to do. I only do what he says."

"Ah." Answered Lotho, losing interest. "Well, then, go let him tell you how to get home. I have important business to deal with."

And with that, the Gaffer Gamgee and Rosie hurried down the steps of Bag End as fast as they could. They had time only to look back and see Lotho blocking the entrance of his home.


	4. The Garden Grows Apart

Chapter Four: Concerning Sam

"Hurry up there, Sam my lad." Hamwise called.

It seemed to Sam that he was always being told to hurry, with little care for what manner it was that he hurried in.

As a young lad he had been pinned as clumsy, though in his mind his fumbles had been caused by trying to keep up with those who tread much faster. Besides, he did not like to run very much, for he always felt as if he would be missing something. It showed not only in the times he was forced to move, but in his every day life as well. For each time he walked from his home at Bagshot Row, he would take the time to enjoy everything he passed- the smell of the violets and hyacinths, the clean, plain air in his throat, and even the warm gravel beneath his feet. When he walked, he would feel all of these things, though he kept his head down most of the time (for it was his wish to watch what was happening on the ground). Sometimes he would find things requiring attention- often a snail on the road, that he would lift it with gentle fingers, and place where it would be safe. Sometimes there would be a weed that had grown into the edge of a garden, and in these times he would always bend and pluck the thing.

But today he could not do such things (though he moved at about the same speed for he was weighed down with all of supplies -pots, spades, small sacks of good earth, strong trimmers and lunch). He hurried after his gaffer, swaying from one side to the next as he ran. He was young, then, barely a tween, and his gaffer had decided it was about time he took up the family business. As he hurried down the street, his supplies clinking and clacking against each other, he began to bring on somewhat of an audience. A few younguns who had nothing else to do, and a few gaffers and gammers who had nothing else to keep them entertained, walked out to the front of their gates and watched him go by.

Sam had lived on Bagshot row for all of his life, and knew everyone who lived in Bywater (either by face, or by company). Suffice to say, everyone in Bywater knew _him. _Whatever his business was, was their business too, and they were surely not to miss it.

"That Ham Gamgee's boy is going to be up at Bag End this week." One hobbit had muttered to another, the night beforen "Going to take up gardening for Mr Baggins."

"Tooken long enough." Another answered, removing his pipe from his hard lips "Had two lads already what should have done that! Ha, that's what happens when you give up yer gaffer's work! Yer sons do the same."

"Ah, watch your tongue!" the first hobbit laughed "He's a better gardener than a ropemaker, that's for sure. Better he be doing good round here, than he be supplying us all with ropes what fray and unravel."

But whatever fame he had acquired in the weekly gossip went unnoticed to Sam who was merely excited to be allowed to work.

"Now, Sam, my lad. It's important that you learn what flowers are what."

"I know that." He replied, proudly "Those there are violets, and those-"

But the gaffer would not let him finish "Maybe you know how to name them, but do you know what the flowers are for?"

And here Sam grew quiet.

"Y'see, my lad. These flowers aren't just for looking nice. They do different things." The gaffer kneeled down and gently took the leaves of some choice plants, naming them, proudly "These here are snapdragons. They're for strength…and these. These are asters- for patience. Dahlias for dignity. Irises for wisdom. You have to keep the flowers balanced, just like the owner of the garden should be balanced." He moved a bit and drew forward a white-petal blossom "This…this is my favourite one. A lily. It's for clarity, purity, goodness and decency. So long as it blooms, it keeps away evil.

Now then, go give it a go."

The day had started off fine, with much excitement, but when hours had passed and the noon-day sun had come into the sky, Sam felt more tired and hot than anything. He was dirty and his clothes were soaked with sweat. Whatsmore, his fingers burned from pulling at the rose-vines.

"Don't you have any sort of blade I could use?" he asked his gaffer, as he sucked on his bloody finger.

"Blades are for folk who don't know how to garden." Answered Hamwise "You take a blade to these roses and you'll never win their hearts! Blades and trimmers are only for the hedges and trees- they're made of tougher stuff. Y'see, Sam, plants and flowers are very fragile. They deserve as much care as children. Tend to them with patience and hard work, and give them all that they deserve- _never_ cut them down with a blade or you'll only be cutting down their gladness for you! No matter how painful it seems." He pointed at his bleeding hands "just keep on going and eventually they'll go the way you want them to."

And Sam tried once more, but his back ached and he sighed with remorse. He wanted to give up, though he would not say so. But the Gaffer knew him better than anyone else, and could tell what was on his mind.

"Stick to it, Sam." The elder chided, "Whatever you put into it, you'll get out of it."

"What can I get out of it!?" Sam asked, though he did not mean his words to sound so selfish "Folk will only see the garden. They never really think about the work that goes into it."

"No, don't think they do. But that's just it. We're simple, folk, Sam. We _shouldn't _be thought about. Nah, the greater thing is the garden and the flowers we plant. Not us. Work your hardest on the garden and take care of it as best as you can. Let people admire its beauty, and don't ask for any of that admiration yourself. Just do all you can to keep it beautiful- remember, you're the hand behind it!"

And Sam nodded, suddenly feeling ashamed of his prior discontent. Without a complaint, he turned back to the roses.

It did not take him long to find a way to turn and trim them without cutting himself, and as the air began to cool, he felt himself grow in greater love for his work and for his garden. He smiled as he sat back, looking at the thing that now moved gracefully along the trelace. In that moment, he decided that the peach roses were his favourite flowers, for even though they were not as stunning as the white ones, they were guided by him, and more familiar to him. _Besides _he thought _They are both soft and sensible. Pretty, but not so beautiful that they must be kept away from all elements! That is just right for me._

"Gaffer Gamgee!" called a familiar voice from the road at Bagshot Row "Is Sam still there?"

"Aye, lass! Still here!"

"Can he come down?" It was a lad this time, and Sam wrinkled his nose at the sound.

"You'd be better to come up here."

And the three hobbits made their way up the steps, stopping before they reached the garden for courtesy to the owner.

"…where is he?"

"Hiding, I figure." The Gaffer answered, not lifting his eyes from his work "Sam! You've got company!"

Sam let his head rise up from behind a small bush. He was covered in soil from toe to brow but had not yet learned to take pride in such things.

"Why Samwise Gamgee." Laughed Nick Cotton "You look'asif you've been caught in a chimney!"

Sam grinned, though he seemed embarrassed. He wasn't sure to say, or what to do (but he was sure it would not be to look at Rosie).

"Hullo, Sam." She smiled, "You look good today."

Jolly laughed "Come on then, lad, we've stopped by for lunch- and we've brought you a good deal from the farm. You too, Gaffer Gamgee. Can you take leave of the roots for a while to eat with us?"

With some help from Sam, the Gaffer came to a stand and made his way over to the three other hobbits. It was true that Nick and Jolly were far from clean, but next to the gardeners they seemed to be freshly bathed. And Rosie herself looked as if she had spent the day in the kitchen rather than out in the fields (as was probably the case), and she held in her hands a basket of lunch- apple dumplings, coney soup and plum pie.

The five sat around for a while, sipping soup from their bowls and eating their piece. Sam had brought cheese and bread- originally enough for him and his gaffer, but with the new food, good enough to share.

"You'll be wanting to know how your Sam's doing, eh, Rose?" laughed the Gaffer Gamgee, interrupting his speech with a bite of cheese.

"I think we all want to know!" laughed Jolly "Come on, then, tell us. Has he done anything spectacular?"

"Spectacular enough. Cut up his hands, he has." Nick nudged Sam a bit as he said this "How'd you do that? The violets a little sharp?"

Sam sniffed and wiped his dirty face "Nah, it's them roses."

"Yeh, you have to watch those." Nick grinned, cheekily "Roses can be such a bother!"

"Shush, you." Rosie mumbled "I didn't spend all day cooking so you can insult me."

"Ah, you cooked this, lass? Your gammer's done a great good thing, teaching you!" The gaffer nodded "I didn't realize how old you've grown. Cooking already- imagine!"

"That's what mum said." Jolly mumbled through a mouthful of food "Started crying soon as she finished folding the apple dumplings. Nibs told her 'mum, you're being embarassing' but then that just made her cry more."

"Ah! You should be kind to that gammer of yours!" the Gaffer Gamgee chided "She's the one what cares for you. And one day she won't be here!"

Sam knew that all too well. His gammer had passed when he was very young, though it was said he had taken most after her. She was sensitive and shy 'a sweeter lass I never saw' his gaffer would say 'beautiful and pale as a lily with eyes the colour of wheat." Sam couldn't remember any of these things, but only broken fragments of memories- the feeling of her apron against his muddy face, her plump hands around his body, the smacking of cabinet drawers when she was preparing dinner, and the smell of the coney soup she used to make. It was her favourite dish, and she cooked it as often as they could afford the meat. In that way, it had become Sam's favourite too.

"The soup's very good, Rose." He managed, though he kept his head down; he was always shyer when others were around "You even put taters in it like my gammer used to do."

"No other way to make it." She blushed.

Sam smiled and nodded affectionately as the Gaffer turned to Jolly.

"Where's your brother, Tom, at?" he asked.

"Working. He has his head in the fields most days now. Seems he's trying to prove something. Don't really know what."

"Ah, well best not to bother him. Rather he's working than bothering my Mari."

"Bothering?"

"Aye. He hovers about our garden waiting for her to come out. Sometimes he'll speak to me, but I know why he's there."

"What does Mari think of it?" asked Nick.

Rosie knew the answer, but she waited for the gaffer to respond.

"Aye, she's as usual a lass as any. Wants to see him, but I told her 'no.' Nothing against your brother, but I'd rather she be focused on her siblings- at least for now. It's good for Tom, too. Don't fancy your gaffer'd be too happy with him always off with Mari. A lad's work is even more important- if he won't do the work who else will?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably and bit into his piece of bread "Tom's a good soul." He said "And a gentler hobbit I haven't met. Even if he has to work…I wouldn't want to see Mari with anyone else. I-if she's not allowed to see him, then maybe she'll turn her eyes to another lad. And it's not that that's wrong on her part…or that she shouldn't be able to fancy another…but we already know we can trust Tom. He's very fond of her, and will take care of her. She'll be in good hands."

"Aye," Rosie agreed "Tom's very kind, and responsible too. He wouldn't let her interfere with his work, either. And if he does, then he'll have the four of us to make it up for him."

The Gaffer Gamgee wrinkled his nose as Sam disagreed with him and then Rosie followed. Normally his son was one to keep quiet and do what he was told- but he knew why he was protesting today, and could read the words behind what he said.

"Your sister won't fancy another. At least not for a while." He mumbled through a mouthful of food "It's not that I can't trust Tom. It's that it's better for the two of them not to see each other for now. You never know." And here he turned to Sam "Sam, you're a good lad. If anyone's following any of your sisters, you come up straight and tell me.

That includes Rose." And here he turned to the lass "You and your brothers are like children to me, and I won't see any lad causing you trouble."

Rosie blushed "No one's causing me trouble. But I'll be sure to tell you if ever that changes." And here she smiled at Sam who had not yet learned to look away.

The Gaffer Gamgee laughed, wondering how they all thought him so dim. What words he last uttered had been for the sake of watching his children's faces.

His seeming desire to keep Tom and Mari apart stemmed from nothing less than the knowledge that when young ones are separated they fall all the more in love for the very idea of each other's presences. Yes, indeed, he was not so slow. And he had once been young and in love. _Yes_ he thought _Mari will be very happy with Tom. And when the time comes, my Sam will be very happy with Rose. _

He and Tom Cotton (senior) had known of such affairs since their children had been old enough to blush. As such, the dear Gaffer Gamgee had began to think of both Tom and Rosie as children of his own. Though it was true he was close to the other Cotton children, he had a special affection for those he knew would soon be his own.

But even within that realm, he had loved Rosie in a different way from her brother- with the dearness and care of a daughter deserving. But it was not of only her herself. For each time that he saw her, he thought of his own Sam and how happy she would make him. It was true the two could have been the same (if one were just a tad more shy, and the other were a tad less prone to lecturing) but it was in their differences that they completed each other.

And each time he met with the lass he felt his heart grow glad, for from the day he was born, the Gaffer wanted nothing less than happiness for his son. He was a wise hobbit, and he knew that love was one of those things that the poor could afford more than the rich. _Yes_ he thought, seeing Sam's own gaze in Rosie's _She will be good for him._

"The three of you better get going. Mr Bilbo's out but he'll be returning soon with his nephew."

"…Nephew?" asked Jolly, somewhat out of the pub-gossip.

"Aye. His nephew- Frido…or Brido. Something very strange like that." And here he leaned in closer, ushering his company to do the same "They say his parents had gone off boating and got into some sort of accident."

"Accident?"

"Aye. Dangerous boating's not something you'd expect from a Baggins. But then, his mum's a Brandybuck."

The younger hobbits nodded in response, but Rosie bit her lip.

"Gaffer Gamgee, do you think it would be possible for Sam to come to our smial today? I was hoping he'd be able to help me start dinner- we're out of wood…and with my brothers out in the fields…"

Sam sat up and looked about ready to pledge his life, but The Gaffer shook his head "I'm sorry, Rose. But Sam's working now. He can't just drop everything to be with you anymore."

Rosie had been smiling, but now it faded "But it's only his first day. Couldn't you…"

"Nah, lass. Sam here's got to learn the good of a hard day's work. Isn't that right, my lad?"

Sam stared down at the ground to avoid looking at either of them "Aye."

"Thank you again for lunch, lass. Send my thanks to your gammer!" and here he turned to Nick "_You be nice to her!_ A lad what can't appreciate his gammer's a gaffer who can't appreciate his wife!"

Nick nodded as he began to gather up the remnants of lunch. The two lads seemed ready to go, but Rosie hovered.

"S-Sam…when do you think you'll be able to come visit us?" she asked.

The lad didn't answer, but turned to look at his gaffer for a response.

"His birthday's tomorrow." He answered "He can do what he likes that day. After that, you'll be able to see him Sundays and Monday mornings. So long as he's got all his work done."

"I'll come see you," Sam muffled while he dug his hands into his pockets "Any time you want me to."

But he didn't. For after that day something changed and as the months went by, they saw each other less and less. At first the excuses came from too much work, or commitments to other relatives. But while this was the truth for a time, it was not so forever.

Mr Bilbo's nephew had come from Brandy Hall, and had no friends in Hobbiton. And while he had not at first taken to Sam, the two had developed a strange kind of friendship. It was not one of casuality or of comfort that he had had with the Cottons (or that Frodo had had with his cousins), but they saw each other more than anyone else (for the garden at Bag End required much work), and in a few months time they had become regular customers at the Green Dragon.

Mr Frodo's was a strange situation, for though the Gaffer Gamgee seemed sure he had just moved to Bag End, he had lived there for some time. He had mourned a great many years for the passing of his parents, and then the separation from his dearest cousins Meriadoc and Peregrin, and so desired to stay inside or to sit far off in the fields where no one would speak to him. Yet when he finally emerged from his smial-dwelling, news of such behaviour had not really surprised anyone (though it made for good gossip). His uncle had been known for stranger things, and it was almost a given that he should do the same.

But the unspoken separation between Sam and Rosie grew and grew, so that after a time neither of the two could be sure of each other's affections. Both had grown in shyness, and the belief that they were no longer wanted by the other. Rosie for Sam's excuses. Sam for a different reason.

As a young lass, Rosie had taken very much in the image of her brothers. She had run with them, swam with them, hopped and dug in the mud with them. What care she had, she put into imagining and planning dirt wars. And what prettiness she had was obscured by all the filth and ruddiness. But Sam had never really seen that, for he had loved her at an age when one couldn't tell a beauty from a brute.

When things began to change and she had grown a face to fit her teeth, and a body to fit her arms; when the scent of the river had given way to the gentle aroma of cranberry pies and apple jelly, Sam began to see in her a beauty that he had never known before. Other lads disagreeing with him had never crossed his mind, and he could only stare at his own self with a feeling of sadness.

"Keep your head in with the potatoes and cabbages, my lad"

"Never hope to be like your betters!'

In his mind, he had put Rosie far too high above him. And himself far below where he really was. For all of his good qualities, he could only see the bad things that were said- he was clumsy, and dim, and perhaps a tad too round. He had seen that much more when he begun to spend more time with Mr. Frodo (who was anything but). And for whatever shame his master had unknowingly put him too, his cousins did worse. For Mr. Peregrin and Mr. Meriadoc were gentle-hobbits of the greatest birth- one the son of a thain, and the other destined to be the Master of Buckland.

For the first time in his life, Sam had seen how ordinary he was. He no longer thought to speak to Rosie.

But the poor lass did not know this, and she saw things differently. To her, Sam had become involved with gentle-hobbits, and learned to better himself. In the same way she had put herself far below and her Samwise far too high, so that between the two of them they could not speak for the distance both ways was much too great.

And so it happened that they became as they were- conversing seldom and never going out of their ways to meet each other. But for whatever separation this caused them, it was nothing compared to what separation was to come.


End file.
